An Uninterrupted Experiment

        Having been deprived of electricity, we were forced to illumine our work with the candles I keep in the drawing room.

         ‘There we are, Henry,’ I whispered to my seated colleague. ‘Can you see alright?’

         ‘Fine fine, Edgar. But have you seen this? The anatomical structure is simply fascinating! Bring the candle closer.’

         Outside, behind the drawn curtains, London was engulfed in flame. At one point, I was sufficiently daring to put down my scalpel and forceps, carefully walk to the window, and part the curtain ever so slightly, doing my utmost not to alert our bellicose visitors from Mars. The London masses had long since fled, and the only movement I could descry was the raging conflagration over half the city, the black smoke that billowed thereof, and the uncanny machines of the Martians; towering, crab-like vehicles that spoke of the inhumanity of modern age technology but boasted the sinuous dexterity of the predators of the East. These machines roamed the streets, treading down gas lamps and wrecking the faces of home and shop alike.

         ‘Edgar!’ said Henry. ‘Take a look at this, will you? Bring the camera.’ I left Henry for a moment and acquired the hefty camera from the corner of our makeshift laboratory before returning to the specimen splayed out on the dissecting table.

         ‘The nerve tissue is extraordinary,’ I noted.

         ‘It would have to be for this creature.’ I actuated the camera mechanism and the device flared loudly with light.

         ‘God bless the Queen, England, and modern science,’ said Henry, keeping his head bowed toward the subject. ‘When all of this invasion business is over, we’ll have physical, documented, and photographic proof of our work to present the Academy.’

         I was about to agree when we heard a commotion on the street below. I told Henry I’d investigate and then stepped cautiously to the window. Three floors down, on the cobbled street littered with various debris, was a Martian vehicle which lay crumpled on the ground. Evidently, despite their superior design, these machines were still prone to debilitation. The operator slid out of the control capsule and struggled to stand on its many tentacles. Despite its efforts, its limbs failed to carry it in the Earth’s gravity, and it writhed on the cobblestones, helpless. I might have taken pity on it, had it not been so grotesque and bloodthirsty.

         Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, a bone-thin mongrel emerged from a narrow side street and bounded for the prostrate Martian. In seconds the dog’s snout was clamped around the creature’s delicate head, and the Martian tossed and turned impotently before laying still, blood oozing from its wound. I could safely infer that the Martian’s flesh was not to the mongrel’s taste, for it recoiled from the carcass and retreated back into its den, leaving the body alone on the street.

         Turning excitedly to Henry I exclaimed in hushed tones, ‘Excellent, my dear boy! We have a second specimen for our research!’